Five Simple Words
by rain1657
Summary: Five simple words. That's all it took. Five words and your world got turned upside-down. JJ/Emily one-shot


_A/N: all right, this one-shot was inspired by rand0m1's fic "Breathe me". I highly recommend going to read that one if you haven't already… it's definitely worth your time. _

_This is my first CM fic, it's unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. Written in JJ's POV_

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did you wouldn't have to read this… you would be watching instead_

_x……x……x……x……x……x……x_

Part of you has always been fascinated by words. You've often found yourself musing on how innocent letters come together to form these tools of language, which on their own mean next to nothing. That is until you put several of these words together in a very specific and rather crucial order. Once you've done that, words can convey so many different things: ranging from fear, worry, and hope, to apology and pain.

Some would comment that sentences are used to build people up, to support them in their struggles. But to you it seems that sentences are more often formed to intentionally hurt, to cause pain, or to tear someone down. You guess this jaded view of something so trivial is just another consequence of the job. And you know that you can try to pretend that you don't feel the effects of these menial phrases that are constructed by their master with the intent to harm. But in the end, pretend is all it will be, because in reality there is no true defense against these seemingly innocuous weapons.

Uttered sentences can alter someone's life forever. They can change a person by exploiting their weaknesses, praising their strengths, playing with their thoughts, fears, emotions, or beliefs. The life a person leads, their successes and failures, their relationships and regrets, their should-have-beens and never-weres – everything that makes or breaks someone's ability to truly live – hang precariously in the balance, tipped in one direction or the other by the mere order in which seemingly innocent words are delivered.

This thought process makes you realize exactly two things: how fragile and vulnerable a person really is, and how dangerous words actually are. You never knew how much power they actually hold over who we're meant to be, who we want to be, who we are.

Letters, words, sentences. These things have always been your secret weapons against the world. You managed to learn from a very early age exactly how to manipulate them to your advantage. Over the years you found a way to use words to construct walls around yourself in order to keep people at arms length and to protect yourself from the heartache and pain this world seems more than willing to dish out.

Once you figured out how to spin these weapons in your favor, they became your shield and your safety net; something to fall back on when you needed to feel comfort in this crazy mixed up world. Words have always protected you and you've always known just what to say to make things go the way you planned. By placing words in the proper order you can anger, sooth, placate, reassure or turn someone down.

Your team often jokes that you'd be able to talk a room full of hungry lions out of eating you, and you've taken pride in that sentiment alone. Statements like that reassure you that you're doing exactly what you were meant to do. It also means that what you've thought for a while is in fact true: you are damn good at what you do… at least you thought you were, until now.

Five words. That is all it took.

Five simple words rendered you speechless, something you didn't think was possible before these five words made their way into your life. Once whispered, you feel a barrage of emotions slam into you: confusion, helplessness, hurt, and surprisingly…hope.

These five simple words, if said lightly in passing, and in any other order, should have rolled right off of your back. They _shouldn't_ have even given you the slightest reason to pause before you formed a witty remark that _should_ have rolled off of your tongue easily in response. They should have been heard, acknowledged and then promptly forgotten. They should not, however, be haunting your every thought, nor should they be causing you this much trouble.

But _these_ five words were not said lightly in passing, or even in jest. Either of those situations you could have handled. No, these words were said in such a crucial order that ultimately carried so much weight, sadness and sincerity that they left you physically reeling from the blow.

The irony that words completely obliterated your carefully constructed walls in a matter of seconds was not lost on you. In the aftermath of those words, you found yourself feeling lost, frightened, and vulnerable. If those words could have such an effect on you, you can't help but wonder what the explanation behind them will do to your currently fragile psyche. So instead of scrambling to put your walls back in place, you stood in a shocked and terrified silence.

It is in this silence that the panic set in.

Five simple words, when placed skillfully in the right order threatened to alter everything you worked for, everything you created for yourself. You know this, and that is probably why you let those words hang in the air, refusing to say anything in response; choosing to run and hide instead of facing them head on.

At the end of the day you numbly climbed into your car and simply drove with no destination in mind. That is until the blinking neon light broke through your panic filled mind and beckoned you forth either like a lighthouse leading you to safe harbor or a Siren leading you to your doom. As you pull your car into the last space in the lot, you are unsure as to which scenario this place will turn out to be, but you know without a doubt that this is something you need.

When you walked through that heavy metal door two hours ago and slowly took in the amount of noise and smoke that clung to the walls and ceiling, you almost smiled because here you don't have to be anyone in particular. You could be a nobody while you hide from your problems, forget yourself on your own for a while without being alone.

As you walked further into this place you nodded your head: yes, this place would do just fine. Here you can wallow in misery, fear, confusion and self-pity while you try to put the pieces of what happened in your office together. Part of you just wants to forget that those words were ever muttered because your gut is telling you that if you piece this together, you won't like what you find as the final product.

The other part of you wants to go back to almost a year ago, before everything changed without your permission, before your stable foundation was shaken to the core, before everything was turned on its head without you even realizing it. You want those days back because things were simple and made sense back then. That's what you want more than anything, but you know that going back isn't possible; you know that those days are long gone and you're afraid.

You find you're more afraid of the future than you've ever been afraid of anything else in your life. Well, that's not counting the incident with the dogs in that godforsaken barn in Georgia. But that was different because she was there to help put you back together. Now though, you're on your own because she's the one who caused this mess in the first place.

_x……x……x……x……x……x……x_

You raise the glass tumbler to your lips and barely wince at the burning sensation as the amber liquid slides down your throat. Exhaling through the pain, you look down to study the ornate designs carved into the thick glass in front of you, and you find yourself slowly turning it, ever so slightly back and forth, so the whiskey inside catches the stray light from the overhead fixtures. You sigh for the umpteenth time that night and wonder again why you care so much. It's not like you two are even that close anymore.

She's shut you out completely, totally, and has most likely shoved you and your friendship into one of her nice, neat little boxes: only to be taken out and remembered fondly when it suits her. Her walls slammed into place so fast that the way you remember it, it was like blinking. One moment you have your friend, your confidant, your warm and somewhat nerdy Emily. Then the next you're facing cold, calculating, distant, always professional and closed off Agent Prentiss. Emily is gone, most likely a victim of the older agent's compartmentalizing abilities, and all you ever see anymore is Agent Prentiss.

You've wanted to cry out in frustration and pain for so long because your Emily is gone and you're stuck with this other person who only looks like the closest friend you've ever had. The worst part is that you have no idea what you did to make her retreat inside of herself like that: so suddenly, so severely, and so permanently.

You used to be the only one she let in. The only one who was allowed to see all of her: you knew this and you did all you could possibly think of to protect that right and privilege, which is probably why you are at a loss about what you did that was so wrong. You knew how hard it is for her to open up to people and you took pride in knowing that you were the one she trusted the most: more likely the only one she trusted period.

When she finally let you all the way in, you saw that she was more fragile than she ever let on, and she desperately needed someone to hold her together. You swore you'd be that person, that you'd be the one to protect her from both the world and herself. You fought ferociously to keep her trust in you safe, and you thought you succeeded in that. Obviously you thought wrong.

Now she can't even look you in the eye. She's cold and withdrawn. The only time you two speak is when it pertains to a case, and when she's around the rest of the team her mask is in place to make it seem like there's nothing wrong. But even with this distance between you two, you can see that she's slowly drowning behind that façade of professionalism: she's losing herself to this job and no one seems to notice but you.

You've tried to talk to her, to find out what the hell happened between you two, to help her. But she always mumbles something about work that needs to get done and moves quickly away from you without ever making eye contact. You can see how much pain she's in, but she won't let you save her like she's saved you so many times in the past. She won't let you help her, but she doesn't seem to be asking anyone else either, which makes you wonder who she's leaning on now that she's not relying on you to keep her above water, to keep her upright.

You scoff. She's obviously moved on from whatever it was that you two once shared; she obviously doesn't care about you anymore, so why should you? You take another sip of the offensive liquid and stop kidding yourself. You care because it's her, you'll always care when it comes to her. She's your Emily and you're her JJ. You two are stronger when you have each other to lean on.

Or at least you did.

Now you're feeling so lost and afraid that you don't know what to do about it. You feel like you're struggling just to breathe, you're losing yourself as much as she's losing herself, and no one seems to care: not Hotch, not Morgan, not even Garcia. She once did and you desperately want your best friend back… no, you need her back. And instead of trying to fix what's left of your friendship, you're stuck here tearing yourself apart because of the look she had in her eyes when she finally looked you in the eye after all this time and spoke those fateful words.

**SEVERAL HOURS AGO…**

You close yet another case file and toss it onto the ever-growing pile of possibilities. You sigh and put your head in your hands, exhaling into the dark cavern your fingers have created. Sometimes you really hate your job, you want to scream because no matter how many cases your team solves, it seems another ten somehow find their way onto your desk.

You contemplate that scream for a second, but your musings on what it would sound like in the bullpen are cut short by the tentative knocking on your door.

You don't remove your hands, so your answer comes out slightly muffled, "come in."

The door creaks open slowly, hesitantly. "JJ, do you have a minute?"

You freeze at the sound of the voice you've been dieing to hear outside of the necessary interaction on cases. Your hands drop slowly and you blink a few times to assure yourself that this isn't a dream.

No, she's definitely standing in your doorway.

Instantly anger, hurt and betrayal flare inside of you, and you want nothing more than to tell her to fuck off. You want to be cruel, cold, harsh: you want to slam the door in her face and scream at her until she feels everything she's put you through in these last few months.

This is the plan. However, your first insult dies immediately on your lips when you see the amount of emotion that somehow coincides with a dead emptiness in chocolate orbs that used to be so familiar.

"Em? What's wrong?"

She visibly flinches at the use of the shortened version of her name, the name that you alone use when addressing her. You are suddenly afraid that she's going to leave, but then her eyes make their way towards yours and you can see so much pain, fear, sadness and regret dully echoing through eyes that used to be so vibrant and alive with love, joy and hope.

The amount of emotion pouring from her slams into you, making you gasp and grab onto your desk for support. A thousand different feelings rush through you at that instant and your mind struggles to keep up with them all before your heart seems to settle on one in particular: worry.

You have never seen Emily Prentiss break down. She's the strongest person you've ever met, even when all of her walls are down and she's upset, she still remains incredibly strong. Seeing her like this is a shock to your system because you never thought you'd see the day when she needed _you_ to be the strong one, when _she_ was the one who needed a shoulder to lean on. But that look in her eyes tells you that the day has come and it is so devastatingly heartbreaking that you want nothing more than to wrap her in your arms and never let go. Without realizing that you've even moved, you've gotten up and have positioned yourself so you're standing right in front of her.

You reach out to touch her as you ask again, "Em, sweetie, what's wrong?"

The term of endearment doesn't go unnoticed by either of you. To you, it feels natural and right to be calling Emily sweetie, but to the older brunette it appears to hurt her almost like a slap to the face. She recoils as such, shying away from both your touch and your eyes as hers move to study the floor of your office.

You pull your hand back and look at it like you've never seen it before. You hope that by concentrating on your hand, you can somehow stop feeling hurt by Emily's reaction to you. Emily has never pulled away from your touch before; in fact it was like she sought it out, like it was the only thing that kept her sane on those long days and horrendous cases. But now it seems that she can't stand to be anywhere near you, that you're a poison that would kill her if you got too close. So instead of trying to touch her again, you decide to take a step back and wait patiently for her to start speaking.

Tense seconds pass into awkward minutes, time in which Emily has neither looked back up at you nor started to speak. Deciding that you never were that patient anyway, you clear your throat to get Emily's attention. When that doesn't work, you tentatively step closer so you're in her space and wait for a reaction. When she doesn't push you away or run screaming from your office, you reach out and gently place your fingers under her chin, sighing in relief when she doesn't pull away from you.

"Emily, you're scaring me. What's going on?"

You gently guide her face up so she's looking you in the eye. All thought leaves you as you register the tears that are slowly making their way down her pale cheeks. You can tell she's trying extremely hard to stop them; that she's embarrassed to be crying in front of you. She sees them as a betrayal to the walls she's worked so hard to construct.

You hold her jaw firmly in your hand to keep your eyes connected because this is the first time in several long months that you two have been this honest with your emotions and you'd forgotten how much you really depended on these soulful brown eyes… brown eyes that now showed how lost the older agent really was.

Emily's eyes start to search yours and you let her, hoping that she will find whatever it is she's looking for. She must have found whatever it was, or maybe it wasn't there to be found; whichever was the case, she found her answer because one second brown eyes were searching blue ones and the next Emily was sobbing.

If you thought your heart couldn't break anymore than it already had, you would have been sorely mistaken because the sight of Emily standing before you broken, hurting and crying was too much for you to handle. You sigh and pull her into a hug, "oh, Emily."

Emily grabs onto you and holds on for dear life. The words "I'm sorry JJ. I'm so sorry" could be heard breaking occasionally through her tears. You hold her while she gets whatever this is out of her system, gently stroking her hair and whispering sweet nothings in her ear to help calm her. Holding her like this, you feel like this is the first time in a very long time that you've felt like how it used to be, that things could possibly be as good, if not better, than they were before.

You have no idea how long the two of you stood intertwined in each other's arms, but eventually her sobs quiet to tears, which slowly turn into sniffles. She seems to hesitate a second before she pulls away and wipes a hand over her eyes, offering you an apologetic smile.

You step back from the embrace and immediately miss the warmth of her arms around you. Sliding your right hand down her arm, you find her hand and slide yours into hers. Tugging gently on her hand, you step back and try to lead her to your couch because you have a feeling whatever it is she needs to talk about will take a decent amount of time.

A smile forms on your lips because it seems that you finally have your friend back, that whatever it was that was going on between you two is now a thing of the past. The smile disappears as soon as it came when you feel the tug on your hand and you turn to see her standing rooted to the spot in your doorway.

Your brow furrows in confusion and you're sure there's a frown now sitting where the ghost of a smile had been mere moments before. Tugging on her hand while nodding toward the couch to convey your intentions, you hope that maybe she just didn't understand what it was you were doing. But then she shakes her head and you sigh in defeat and mentally kick yourself for being so stupid: this isn't going to be as easy as you had originally thought, no matter how much you hoped it could have been.

Moving to stand in front of her again, you tighten your grip on her hand because this small amount of contact feels like your lifeline at the moment. It's your last connection to the Emily you knew; the Emily who didn't avoid you, shy away from you, or shut you out. The warmth you feel in your hand radiating from hers is the only piece of the Emily you once knew right now and you'll be damned if you're the first to let go.

She surprises you by gently squeezing your hand before she sighs and runs her left hand through her hair. She continues to look you in the eye and you know you're not going to like what she has to say. Your gut is telling you to run away, plug your ears with your fingers, scream, shout, carry on… anything that will stop you from hearing what you're about to hear. Instead you brace yourself for the worst and try to remain calm as she opens her mouth to speak.

"I've never been good with words. They tend to get all jumbled together and then what I'm trying to say gets lost in the mess. It's never been something I was good at, no matter how many classes my mother made me take in public speaking. Plus, I tend to ramble when I'm nervous, which I'm pretty sure I'm doing right now. God, I'm terrible at this…"

You tug on her hand again to get her attention and this seems to calm her because she stops speaking and looks at you. You crack a slight smile, one you hope is reassuring, "you can talk to me Emily. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm not going anywhere."

She sighs, opens her mouth, closes it, and then sighs again. You notice the emotion in her eyes has changed and the next five words out of her mouth are filled with so much pain, longing, and a sense of urgency that it takes a second for you to register what exactly it is that she said. But the pleading in her voice brings you crashing back to reality.

"Don't marry him Jennifer. Please."

You freeze and can feel all emotion drain from your face, leaving you pale and shell-shocked. You feel numb and while you know you need to say something, your mind can't seem to come up with anything. Part of you finds that funny because you've been trained to field any questions a reporter could ask that might throw you off your game. But here was one of your friends throwing you so completely off of any game you could possibly hope to have by simply begging you not to marry the father of your child.

Then again it could be the simplicity in which it was asked, or the fact that it was Emily asking you to not go through with it that has you so rattled. Maybe if it had been Morgan or Hotch, hell even Rossi, asking it wouldn't have shocked you so thoroughly.

But it wasn't any of the men on your team asking, it was Emily, and the implications behind those five words are waging war on what you thought you knew, what you perceived as reality. Apparently you aren't as aware of your dark haired friend's feelings as you thought: you thought she approved of Will; she was the one who pushed you toward him in the first place. But now she's begging you not to marry him and all you can think of is how you never in a million years would have seen this coming from Emily of all people.

Those five words play on repeat in your mind and you still stand there, your mouth slightly agape and your eyes glazed over and unseeing. At this particular moment in time, you aren't sure if your reaction is from what Emily had just said, or if it's because she called you Jennifer.

You let the way she said your name echo in your now quiet mind: you've always hated your name, preferring JJ so much more than any other variation of your name. But for some reason the way Emily says it, it sounds right and the emotion she puts behind your name makes you inwardly smile and warm instantly to it.

This revelation immediately gets filed away for future reflection because there are too many other things going through your mind. Plus, you have a feeling that your reaction to it must mean something important and you don't have enough time right now to dwell on it too long, something you feel this particular revelation deserves.

Emily is still looking at you, obviously expecting some sort of response. But that's a problem all it's own because you can't respond to that: you don't know how. Right now you'd settle for anything if only to erase the look of embarrassment and utter defeat that's currently marring Emily's beautiful face.

Emily sighs and runs her free hand through her hair again before slowly removing her right from your grasp. It's this loss of contact that snaps you out of your stupor and you focus your entire being on your friend as she leaves your office looking so much worse than when she originally came in.

You want to yell out to her, to call her back and ask her why, but something stops you. Maybe it's the way Emily's usually confident strut has dissolved to a mere shuffle or the way her usually broad and strong shoulders are rolling so far forward that she looks as though she's about to implode. You know that you should go after her, but your head still needs time to sort through those five words.

No matter how much your heart wants you to go after her, to fix this, your mind wins out and instead you slowly close your door and rest your head against the cool glass as you sigh. Through the confusion and the now present panic threatening to take control, one thing becomes absolutely clear to you. You know without a doubt that this is one truth you can't hide from: your relationship with Emily Prentiss just changed and you fear that the damage is irreparable.

You groan and bang your head against the doorjamb once for good measure as you grumble, "what the hell just happened?"

**PRESENT TIME:**

You study the amber liquid a little longer as your mind attempts to sift through all of the emotions you've been feeling and the questions you've had since Emily left your office earlier today. You sigh because you thought you had everything figured out, you thought you had the next few years of your life in order. But as life often does, you were thrown a curveball, one that has left you so utterly confused that you have no idea which way is up anymore. You honestly don't know which is more confusing: being blindsided by Emily in your office, or the sudden urge you have to find out why she doesn't want you to marry Will.

You shake your head as you spin the glass tumbler on the bar in front of you, watching as the rainbow designs reflecting from the lights above dance around the worn wooden surface. No matter how many glasses of whiskey you drink, this situation doesn't seem to want to make itself scarce, and you decide its time to dwell on the feeling you had when Emily said your name.

There wasn't really time to do it earlier, but you can't seem to shake the warm feeling that radiated inside of you when she called you by your full name. For some reason you can't stop the smile on your face as you remember exactly how she said it: the tender and loving way it rolled off of her tongue.

The way she says it just feels right, unlike with Will when it feels forced. The smile grows against your bidding as you start to feel something else bubble up inside of you, something you had originally thought was the liquor but now you're pretty sure its hope.

This revelation stops all trains of thought you may have had going through your mind. Why would you feel hopeful that Emily doesn't want you to marry Will? That just doesn't make any sense to you and you scoff for the second time that night. You eye the whiskey skeptically, maybe you have had one too many to be thinking something like that.

But then again, maybe you're thinking clearly for the first time today.

Maybe everything you thought you had with the dark-haired profiler was real, maybe the feelings you thought you could have for her were there. Maybe she felt the same: maybe she wants a future with you. You smile at that thought and realize that when you think about your future, it has always been Emily that you see, not some guy and especially not Will.

You take another sip of the fire-like substance and this time you don't try to hide the wince as it burns down your throat. This new revelation has filled you with a new outlook, one filled with hope, happiness and love. You've finally realized something about yourself, and now you need to know exactly why she doesn't want you to marry Detective Will LaMontagne.

You check your watch and roll your eyes at the time, but decide that it isn't too late to get the answer you feel you deserve. You finish off your drink, all but slam the tumbler onto the bar, toss enough money next to the glass to cover your tab and then walk back out to your car. You slide yourself into the driver side and roll down the window as you turn the key in the ignition.

Part of you knows that this is a really bad idea: it's getting late, you're admittedly tipsy and you know that this is a conversation you should have when you're sober. But the other part knows that you wouldn't have the guts to go over there and ask her why you shouldn't marry him if you were sober. So instead of heading home to get some sleep, you find yourself heading further into the city and towards her condo.

_x……x……x……x……x……x……x_

Thirty minutes and several miles later, you pull your black Jeep Wrangler into a parking spot outside her condo and hop out before you can change your mind. As you climb the stairs to her floor, so many reasons for you to turn around and go home bounce around noisily in your head. You swallow back your nervousness and slight embarrassment, all the while trying to quiet your nerves and your mind as you raise your hand and knock three times on her door.

You shuffle your weight back and forth from foot to foot as you wait for her to open the door. This seemed like such a good idea in the bar, but now that's its becoming a reality, you're not so sure. You raise your hand to knock again, thinking that maybe she didn't hear you, but you stop when you hear shuffling on the other side of the door followed immediately by laughter.

You realize she's not alone and curse rather loudly, before quickly looking around the empty hallway for an easy escape. Not seeing one, you decide to turn and head back to the stairs, but the sound of the door opening and her questioning tone stop you dead in your tracks, "JJ?"

You've been busted and you don't try to hide that knowledge as you slowly turn to face the woman you once thought you knew better than you knew yourself. You smile sheepishly at her as she takes a step out of her condo. When you don't answer her, she cocks her head slightly to the right and her brows furrow in confusion, "JJ, what are you doing here?"

You decide it's now or never, clear your throat, straighten your shirt and walk closer to her so your standing right in front of her, "I have a question… about earlier."

She falters slightly and pales, turning her eyes away from you. She idly kicks at the carpeting with the toe of her shoe, "oh that."

You sigh, leaning down to try and catch her eye, "Emily look at me."

She doesn't comply, so you reach forward and slide your fingers under her chin for the second time that day. You lift her face so she looking you in the eye, "Em, look at me. I need you to listen to me, and when I ask this question, I need you to be honest. No bullshitting to try and avoid the subject, ok? Please Emily."

It's her time to sigh, but she nods instead of answering you. You find yourself nodding with her before you release her chin from your grasp and run your hand through your hair, "I need to know why."

If it was possible Emily paled even more and she shakes her head a few times: this scares you because you think she's not going to answer you. But she surprises you once again by opening her mouth to give you the answer you so desperately need. You wait for her to somehow ease the confusion you've been stuck with for the better part of the day by answering that one simple question.

She's about to answer you, but her mouth slams closed and you both whip around to face the distraction that could have just ruined your one chance to understand: "who is it Emily?"

You would think that after everything that has happened today you'd stop being surprised, but you find yourself speechless once again. This time you're not sure if it's from the identity of the person in Emily's condo, or if it's because they seem to have gotten pretty close, something that you weren't aware of. You feel yourself blush and suddenly wish that you had just gone home after leaving the bar because you don't know how to deal with the way either of them is looking at you. Emily looks guilty and embarrassed but her guest seems confident and almost territorial and defensive.

Agent Todd smiles easily as she leans against the doorjamb of Emily's home and fold her arms across her chest, "Agent Jareau."

You still can't understand what she's doing here, you can't get past the feeling like someone just punched you in the stomach, and you can't seem to form an acceptable sentence so you choose to nod at her instead, "Agent Todd."

Emily numbly looks between you and you feel the tension ratchet up a notch as you all stand there in an awkward silence. Several moments of this pass before Agent Todd's eyebrows jump up her forehead and she rolls her eyes before she clears her throat and pushes away from the doorjamb, "all right. As fun as this has been, I should probably go. Thanks for the help Emily."

Something inside of you bristles as Agent Todd runs her hand down Emily's arm. In Emily's defense, you notice that she has enough sense to look sheepish as Agent Todd makes her way passed both of you and starts making her way down the hall. You watch as Emily's eyes follow the other Agent and one thought screams out in your mind: _Oh God Emily, please tell me I'm not too late_.

"What did you just say?"

Your head whips around and you look at Emily like she's crazy, "what?"

Emily's eyes are burning with something you can't decipher as she answers, "you just said 'Oh God Emily, please tell me I'm not too late.'"

You can feel the blush returning with a vengeance as you look anywhere but at her, "shit, I said that out loud didn't I?"

She seems to only be able to nod in response. You run your hand through your hair again and then nod towards her condo, "look, can we talk?"

She doesn't answer you as she simply walks back inside, leaving the door open and obviously leaving it up to you whether or not you're going to follow her. You look up at the ceiling and offer up a silent prayer before you follow her into her home and shut the door behind you. Turning from your spot, you take in the state of the living room, your eyes resting momentarily on the two empty wine glasses on the table before they continue on to meet hers from where she's leaning against the island in her kitchen off to your right.

She folds her arms across her chest and levels her gaze on you, "why are you here Jennifer?"

You flinch at your name because this time it's filled with venom and bitterness. Anger flares to the surface and you immediately bring your eyes back to hers, "look you don't have the right to snap at me! You're the one who came into my office earlier today and all but begged me not to marry Will! What the fuck Emily!?"

When she recoils from your anger, you stop short and take in her defensive stance. You groan as you realize what she was playing at. You had forgotten that if there's one thing that Emily Prentiss hates, it's feeling vulnerable. You should have known that she would try and push you away instead of opening up to talk about it. You reach out to her but stop your hand before it gets too high, "shit Em, I'm sorry. It's just that you dropped one hell of a bombshell on me earlier, and I haven't been able to think straight since."

She narrows her eyes at you before she shakes her head, "oh come on JJ. You may not be a profiler, but you've spent enough time with us to pick certain things up. There's no way you didn't see this coming!"

You nod as you step closer to her, stopping before she gets uncomfortable, "ok, so maybe I should have seen it, but that still doesn't make this any easier. We've spent the past two years dancing around this issue and just when I think I've got it figured out, you push me towards him… I didn't know what to think. Up until then, I thought that everything between us meant more than what everyone else saw. I thought it all meant more to you. But then you go and tell me to go after Will. I was hurt and confused, so I thought that was what you wanted. God Emily, if I had known…if we had just talked about it…"

This time she's the one who steps closer to you, "I shouldn't have suggested it. And I'm sorry that I did: you have no idea how much. Being so close to you without being able to touch you, to have you, knowing that you go home to him every night and let him hold you in ways that I could only ever dream of…I've done things I'm not proud of, but god Jayj, pushing you towards him was the biggest regret I will ever have."

She pauses, leaving you waiting for her to continue. When she doesn't, you ask the question that's been screaming in your mind since this conversation started, "then why did you?"

She looks at you with such sadness in her eyes that it tugs painfully at your insides, "I honestly don't know. I guess I was afraid and I panicked."

You close the distance between you so you're standing in her personal space, "what were you afraid of Emily?"

She drops her eyes and sniffles in an attempt to stop the tears, "I was afraid that you didn't feel the same, that maybe it was just harmless flirting to you. And I thought if I pushed you towards him then I could move on."

You hear your voice as it pleads with her, "Emily, look at me. Please look at me."

She sniffles again but slowly raises her tear filled eyes and you can feel the start of tears of your own. You know that the next sentence out of your mouth could make or break this fragile moment, so you drop all of your walls and let the hope, fear, confusion and need come through in your voice, "please Emily. I need to know. Why? Why don't you want me to marry him? Please sweetheart, I need to hear you say it."

She searches your eyes again and this time finds exactly what she was looking for because she smiles slightly, "you can't marry him because I love you Jennifer Jareau."

You can't help the smile that breaks out on your face as you reach up to cup the side of her face, the pad of your thumb gently wiping away the tears that have started to fall, "you have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that. God, I love you so much Emily Prentiss."

Her smile grows even bigger as she pulls you towards her, stopping at the last second to give you a chance to pull away. You continue to smile as you close the last few inches by pulling her head towards yours and gently pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that holds all the emotions you two were afraid to share in the last two years.

When air becomes an issue the two of you pull apart and she puts her forehead against yours. You respond by wrapping your arms around her waist, wanting to stay as close to her as possible. You sigh once again, but this time it's out of contentment as the two of you stand in each other's arms, simply enjoying the other's company in silence. After a while she breaks it with another five words that once again change your life, but this time you find you don't mind so much.

"I will always love you."

Five simple words is all it took. And if these five words were the last you ever heard, that would be fine with you.


End file.
